


the thrush and the jay are summer songs

by blackkat



Series: hawks 'verse [17]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comfort, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:33:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25661413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: It’s a new feeling, to have someone hope for his presence. And, by all rights, it should be a terrifying one, but Jon isn't even nervous. Excited, anticipatory, but he wants to see Rex, too.He wants to come back to Rex, no matter how long or short a time he’s been gone for.
Relationships: Jon Antilles/CT-7567 | Rex
Series: hawks 'verse [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1825195
Comments: 43
Kudos: 575





	the thrush and the jay are summer songs

The cab drops him off at the end of the long, winding driveway a few minutes after midnight, and Jon slides out, dragging his wallet out of his battered old knapsack and paying the driver.

“Sure you want to stop here?” the woman asks, eyeing the way the trees curve in a dark arch over the gravel drive. “I can take you all the way up.”

“This is fine,” Jon says quietly. “I don’t want to wake anyone.” He hauls his pack up over one shoulder, then nods to her politely. “Thank you.”

“Have a good night,” the driver says, and she’s quiet as she pulls away, back onto the pavement. Jon doesn’t hesitate; he turns towards the arching trees, the deep shadows, and picks up a steady pace, not hurrying. It’s late, and he’s tired, but it’s a good kind of tired.

The key that Rex gave him weighs heavy in his pocket, right next to a small package carefully wrapped in one of Jon's bandanas. It’s a good weight, though, a welcome one; it makes Jon think of the way Rex's arm feels around his shoulders, or the way Rex pressed it into his hand just before he left, not asking for anything, just—hoping.

It’s a new feeling, to have someone hope for his presence. And, by all rights, it should be a terrifying one, but Jon isn't even nervous. Excited, anticipatory, but he wants to see Rex, too.

He wants to come back to Rex, no matter how long or short a time he’s been gone for.

The house at the top of the drive is dark, but the front light is still on, illuminating the steps and the door. It could just be a habit to leave it on, something that’s done every night without fail, but somehow it still feels like a welcome after four nights camping, and Jon smiles a little to himself, heading up the steps and pulling out his key. It fits, and the lock turns, and Jon lets himself in, soundlessly closing the door behind him and relocking it. There's an unfamiliar coat on the coatrack, a dog’s collar and leash hanging on top of it, and Jon gives them a glance as he slides off his boots.

Investigating can wait until morning, though. Jon strips off his coat and hangs it up, then carefully fishes the bandana-wrapped package out of the pocket. Turning it over in his fingers, he smiles a little, then heads up the stairs, steps silent in the darkness.

There's another light on at the end of the hallway, and one of the doors across from it is cracked open. A huge shepherd lying in the gap lifts his head, eyeing Jon warily for a moment, but after a moment he huffs and puts his head back down, and Jon makes a sound of amusement. He crouches down, offering a hand, and the dog sniffs it, then thumps his tail happily.

Behind him, in the crack of light that falls through the doorway, Jon can see a figure on the bed, the hair too long to be Jango or Cody, too dark to be Rex. Another brother is staying, apparently, and he has good taste in dogs. Jon strokes the shepherd’s ears, then straightens. His room is one down, on the opposite side of the hall, and when he eases the door open, it’s to the sight of an occupied bed.

This occupant is a welcome one, though, and Jon feels like his bones are full of light. His throat is tight, and there's a tangle of things he wants to say on his tongue, but instead of trying for any of them, he just drops his rucksack on the chair, gently closes the door, and then sinks down on the edge of the bed.

Rex has been having a nightmare. Jon's had enough of his own to recognize the tight pinch to his features, the hitch in his breaths, the way on hand keeps closing convulsively on the comforter. As Jon watches, he lets out a soft sound, pained, and shivers all over.

“Shh,” Jon murmurs, leaning in, and he presses a kiss to Rex's forehead, another to his temple. Setting the package aside, he carefully tangles his hand with Rex's fist, easing it away from the blankets and letting Rex grab at him instead. Kisses his cheek, the tip of his nose, and then his lips, so gentle and careful there’s barely any pressure behind it. “Rex. You’re all right.”

There's a ragged breath before Rex's eyes slowly slide open. He swallows, lying still for a long moment, and then blinks. Turns, and his eyes widen, relief washing over his face as he pushes up. “ _Jon_. You're—what time is it? When did you get back?”

“Midnight, and just now,” Jon says, squeezing his fingers. “Sorry. My car broke down, so I had to call a cab.”

Rex lets out a breath, humor washing over his face. “At least you had a phone this time.”

Jon rolls his eyes a little, but leans in. Pauses, and asks quietly, “Can I kiss you?”

It’s what Rex asks him, almost every time. A sweet thing, small, and Jon had never thought he’d like something of the sort, but—

“Please,” Rex says, already reaching for him. Jon lets himself be pulled in, fits their mouths together even as Rex drags him up onto his lap, and his heart is pounding but it’s so _sweet_ , like heat lightning in his veins. Jon kisses him, and kisses him, and feels Rex's fingers in his hair, the arm around his back. Links his own over the broadness of Rex's shoulders, and Rex is sleep-warm and pliant, following Jon's lead as he deepens the kiss, tangles their tongues. The hand on his back slides down to his thigh, grips, and a moment later Rex is hitching him forward, rolling them. Jon's back hits the mattress, but he doesn’t even hesitate, pulls Rex closer and slants their mouths together again.

“Gods, I missed you,” Rex breathes, pulling back just enough to look down at Jon, and there's a look in his eyes in the half-darkness that makes Jon feel like he’ll never be able to find enough words ever again. “I'm glad you're working, but I'm _so_ glad you're back.”

“I wanted to come back,” Jon says, soft, like a confession. Quick, because if he doesn’t get the words out Rex won't _know_. “I usually—I stay in the lookout. All year. But I wanted to come back this time. I never—”

His throat closes, but Rex makes a soft sound, leans down. He covers Jon, settling on top of him with his arms braced on either side of his head, and this is the good weight Jon was thinking of earlier. The best weight, and he touches Rex's cheek as Rex kisses him again, touches the scar on his chin and the one hidden in his golden hair and the ones scattered over his shoulders.

Thinks of bravery, and Rex making it back despite the odds, and can hardly breathe for how grateful he is.

“I brought something for you,” he says hoarsely, because _I love you_ feels like too much, too soon. He _wants_ to say it, won't deny it if asked, but he isn't sure if Rex wants to hear it yet.

“Something?” Rex repeats, brow rising. Looks at Jon, then over at the door, and sighs. “Let me guess, I have to get up for it.”

Jon smiles, pushing up enough to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Just a little,” he says, and Rex sighs like it’s a pain but rolls off of him, hand skimming down Jon's side as he goes. Jon shivers, wants to grab for him, but he forces himself to keep moving, to pick up the cloth-wrapped gift from the nightstand and offer it up.

“Here,” he says quietly.

Rex blinks at the package, then raises his other brow as well, taking it carefully. He unravels Jon's knot with a few quick tugs, then pulls the dark cloth away, revealing the golden-bronze feathers within.

Instantly, Rex freezes, eyes widening. He stares, unmoving, for a long moment, and Jon feels a flicker of uncertainty rise.

“The hawks know me,” he says quickly. “They leave me feathers and things, where they know I camp. I didn’t take them from the nests, just collected them off the ground, but—you have the Jaig Crest, and you’re Mandalorian so you know what they mean, and I thought—”

Rex's hand fists in the front of his shirt, and he hauls Jon into another kiss, this one harder, more desperate as he cradles the feathers to his chest. Jon makes a sharp sound of surprise, and Rex pulls back, mutters a curse. He doesn’t let go, though.

“Jon,” he says, rough. “ _Thank_ _you_.”

“Of course,” Jon says, all relief, and gives him a small smile. Watches him look down, fingers gently stroking the jaig hawk feathers, and says, “I kept…thinking of you. The whole time I was up there. And wanting to be here. Not. Not beyond anything else. But. As a place to come home to.”

Rex's expression twists, and he reaches out. Pulls Jon in, resting their foreheads together, and closes his eyes, fingers tangled in Jon's hair. “I’ll leave the light on for you,” he says roughly. “Whenever you're gone.”

Jon kisses him, gentle, easy. Doesn’t say _I love you, I love you, I love you_ , but—

Only because Rex kisses him back, and Jon doesn’t want to pull away.


End file.
